


Both

by TheRedWulf



Series: Roosa One Shots [13]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bakery, Banter, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, For reasons, Insults, Modern Era, Mutual Pining, Neighbors, Oberyn Martell is Gordon Ramsay, Rivalry, Roosa - Freeform, Roose is OK with Pink, Sansa is a smartass, Sarcasm, Social Media, Top Chef, Wit, plot holes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26705182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedWulf/pseuds/TheRedWulf
Summary: AU - Modern - In which a social media rivalry becomes so much more...Picset is viewableHERE
Relationships: Roose Bolton & Sansa Stark, Roose Bolton/Sansa Stark
Series: Roosa One Shots [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1469906
Comments: 41
Kudos: 108





	Both

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ineedminions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineedminions/gifts).



> Here we go again! This series is called the 'Picset Challenge'! What does that mean? It means that I will be taking reader-made picset submissions through my discord, [The Red Wulf's Pack](https://discord.gg/bsRauMj/), and write a short blurb/one shot for reach one. It can be any pairing that I normally write, and any era, trope, etc. I really wanted to challenge my brain to see something unique and surprising in each set, and so far it's been a blast!
> 
> This picset is from "[INeedMinions](https://ineedminions.tumblr.com/)"!  
> Pairing: Roose x Sansa = Roosa  
> Universe: Modern  
> Trope: New Business/Neighbors  
> Rated: T for language
> 
> Imagine here that Oberyn Martell is the Gordon Ramsay of Westeros (and we all know that Beef Wellington is his favorite dish).
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! Not a writer, not beta'd, the usual yadda, yadda, yadda...

“You’ve got to be kidding” Sansa scoffed, shaking her head at her phone in disgust. 

“What?” Jeyne Poole, her Sous-chef asked, voice laced with trepidation. 

“Listen to this malarkey” Sansa leaned against the stainless countertop. “And I quote, ‘There is a shocking lack of discipline in someone who cannot abide baking’,” she read, snorting a very unladylike snort at the end. “Can you believe this guy? Lack of discipline? Is he serious?” 

“Bolton again?” Jeyne guessed and Sansa nodded. “I figured.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sansa locked her phone and tucked it into her purse. They had just wrapped up another long night at the most popular restaurant in Wintertown, ‘The Wall’, and were about to head home when Sansa had given into the urge to check Twitter. 

“It means,” Jeyne smiled. “That of all the people in the world, none of them rile you up like Roose Bolton can.” 

“That’s not--” Sansa paused, thoughtfully. “Okay, so that’s a little true.” 

“It’s a lot true,” Jeyne corrected, shutting off the lights over the seating area. Jeyne had been Sansa’s first hire when the restaurant began its hunt for the best of the best, and she had never regretted it.

“He’s just….” Sansa sighed, pulling her purse over her shoulder. 

“I know” Jeyne smirked. 

“What?” 

“Nothing” Jeyne chuckled. 

“So he's a little good looking,” Sansa conceded. If you thought pale blue eyes, deep voice, and broad shoulders were nice...

“A little?” 

“Even though he is a few years older” the silver at his temples _was_ lovely... 

“Eleven years isn’t a large gap,” Jeyne reasoned and Sansa didn’t even want to know how Jeyne knew the exact age difference--how much time had her sous chef invested in this?

“And he’s quite successful,” Sansa reasoned. 

“Quite” Jeyne echoed and Sansa’s shoulders slumped in exasperation. “I was just stating a fact, San, he gets to you.” 

“He irritates me,” Sansa corrected as they walked the familiar path to the back door. “He is just…” she paused to set the alarm and then stepped out into the early fall chill. “Arrogant” she finished as she locked the door. 

“Right” Jeyne pulled her car keys from her purse. “Have a good night, chef” she bid farewell, leaving Sansa to walk the two blocks to her own apartment. She tucked her hands into the pocket of her wool coat and made her way down the street.

Sansa paused at the front of the restaurant, admiring the elegant overhangs and the way the back up lights seemed to illuminate the lovely modern grey and white décor inside. She’d worked damned hard for a long time to get here, to be working with Oberyn Martell, and she was proud of what they’d created together. 

She had never expected to have her application considered--especially given than she had applied within weeks of graduating culinary school. But when the producers for ‘Oberyn’s Top Chef’ called her in for a final audition, she had nearly sobbed with joy. To even be a contestant on the show would help her career immensely, but the moment she’d been announced the winner and champion, everything had changed. 

Of course, some days it seemed as if her entire life was a dream. She had gone from being the bullied ginger-girl of the North to the winner of Oberyn Martell’s ‘Top Chef’, to one of the most well-regarded chefs in the country--regarded, of course, except by Roose Bolton. 

As part of the deal, the winner would become a partner and head Chef in a restaurant with Oberyn himself, using their culinary mastery to make their own mark on the world--with Oberyn’s help of course. Oberyn, however, hadn’t been around much once he realized that Sansa had everything under control. He’d placed ‘The Wall’ into her hands and returned to television with aplomb. 

The only hiccup in her blissful career was the aforementioned arrogant man; Roose Bolton. Where Oberyn was _the_ name in cooking, Roose was the end-all, be-all in confectionery. Known for his near over-use of powdered sugar and the color pink, Roose had climbed to the top of the frosting mountain and dethroned everyone along the way. Now he stood triumphant, a pink macaron flag flying in his wake. 

He was handsome, she would admit that to herself. Only a few inches taller than her own great height, he was imposing without being terrifying and a graceful powerhouse in the kitchen--at least from what she could see on his videos and appearances. But still...she sighed, absently touching her phone in her purse, he was a pain in the ass. 

It had started innocently enough, Sansa tweeting out that there was nothing as satisfying as the perfect Beef Wellington, then when Roose replied ‘Clearly you’ve never made a successful soufflé, Chef Stark’ that was it, the war was on. 

Almost two years later they were ‘internet famous’ as Arya would say, known for their cutting barbs and back-handed compliments to each other: 

A comment about how cooking was an art and that baking had no soul, here. 

A counter about lacking education in the kitchen, there.

A video of a collapsing soufflé parody, here. 

A picture of a spice cake made to look like Beef Wellington, there. 

A photo of an intricate French Breakfast sandwich with Gruyère, egg and prosciutto crushing a turnover pastry. 

A remark about the surprising success of ‘The Wall’.

A counter-remark about the effects of excessive sugar consumption on the human body. 

And so on. 

Oberyn had complimented her ‘genius tactics’ in creating a buzz about ‘The Wall’, and promised her that one day when she least expected it, she would meet Roose face-to-face and she might actually like what she found. Sansa had shaken it off with a smile; she’d managed to make it this far without meeting him, what were the odds they would now that she was up in Wintertown? 

Turning away from the restaurant window she intended to make her way home when she drew up short.

“Sweet mother of irony…You’ve got to be kidding me” she muttered for the second time in ten minutes, gaping widely at the logo that haunted her nightmares. It must have gone up some time during her shift, or she would have noticed it before--surely she would have. 

There, sitting directly across the street from ‘The Wall’, on the newly renovated brick building, was the vibrant neon pink logo of ‘Bolton Bakery’, taunting her. 

“Un-fucking-believable” she choked out the words, unable to form a coherent thought. He _would_ find the building across the street and set up shop--he _absolutely_ would! “Arrogant…” her words trailed off in a tirade of curses and frustration, her legs moving with renewed speed towards her apartment. “Perfect, absolutely perfect” she grumbled. 

Just when she thought she could safely avoid him forever, he moved in across the street. 

Roose watched her, recognizing her fiery slender form in an instant. She’d been standing--no, pacing along the sidewalk in front of ‘The Wall’ for nearly twenty minutes now, clearly debating with herself about crossing the street. Granted, they hadn’t had their ‘Grand Opening’ yet, today was their soft opening and already they’d sold out of almost everything. Wintertown had been lacking a proper dessert shop for some time and it was his pleasure to fill that gap. 

He knew that the location was perfect, something confirmed by his old friend Oberyn Martell the moment he said they’d be ‘neighbors’, and he couldn’t wait to see the look on Sansa Stark’s beautiful face the moment she found out. He’d pay good money to see it in person and it seemed as if he was about to be treated to just that. 

He hadn’t paid much mind to Oberyn when he broke the news that the Gourmet Network was placing him in charge of an elite cooking competition. Roose was a confectioner and had his focus there rather than cooking at large. But when Oberyn had called again to tell him that he had a ‘gut feeling’ that Sansa Stark would come out on top of it all, he couldn’t help but tune in. 

He wouldn’t admit it to a soul, but he had watched in rapt fascination as Sansa had busted her ass week after week, managing to turn even the most absurd of ingredients into an amazing looking meal--all with a stunning smile on her face. She was beautiful, graceful, poised, and according to Oberyn, the woman to take over all of the Martell restaurants someday. 

Such lofty recommendations couldn’t be beaten and shouldn't be taken lightly. 

Unfortunately, he had gotten off on the wrong foot with Sansa; social media wasn’t the best place for a dry, sarcastic sense of humor but it had resulted in a ‘rivalry’ that pushed both of their respective businesses into the spotlight. 

He had felt a sense of accomplishment at turning a plain spice cake into the visually perfect Beef Wellington and laughed in truth when she countered with a delectable looking breakfast sandwich squishing an apple turnover. Her talent for snark was admirable, and he found himself returning time and again to ‘get her goat’ as Barbrey would say. He wasn’t a man to back down when a battle of wits was at hand, and at each turn she managed to surprise him--another rarity that couldn’t be beaten.

Over a year later, here they were. Neighbors.

“Oh!! Here she comes” his longtime assistant, Barbrey, laughed, quickly hurrying into the back and out of sight. If all went well, he would be able to leave this location in Barbrey’s hands and he could continue his rotation of visiting existing locations, working at his private bakery in Lannisport, or opening more locations for Bolton confections. 

“Coward!” Roose called after Barbrey with a smirk, making a show of organizing the display case. The door chime let out its upbeat tune and there she was, in the flesh. 

At last.

“Roose Bolton” she said softly, standing on the logo-emblazoned welcome mat. She was even more incredible in person, the perfect combination of porcelain and fire. Her eyes, a bright crystalline blue fixed him with an unreadable stare, temporarily stealing the words from his lips. She was dressed in faded jeans and a wool coat, hair in a tight braid that kept the strands from her face--she was headed to work then, most likely. 

“Chef Stark” he finally mustered the words, rounding the counter to stand a few feet away. “So glad you could make it on our first day open.” 

“Why are you here?” she asked, breathless as if she were shocked to actually see him here. 

“I work here” he countered. “Well, technically I own the place.”

“Hence the giant Bolton logo on the building” she quipped. 

“Hence” he nodded in acknowledgement. 

“I…” she paused, her jaw clenching--and what a lovely jaw it was. “Sansa Stark” she stepped closer, offering her hand. “Though we’ve spoken, we’ve never actually had the pleasure of meeting.” 

“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me” Roose added, placing his hand in hers for a brief moment before she abruptly pulled away. 

“Avoidance doesn’t really work when you move in across the street, does it?” she countered. 

“Fair enough.” 

“Why did you?” 

“Did I what?” he fought the urge to smile. She was so clearly uncomfortable, he couldn’t help but relish in it. 

“Move in here” she elaborated. 

“The building was too fantastic to pass up” he looked pointedly across the street at 'The Wall'. “Plus it has a great view.” 

“Chef Bolton--” 

“No, please, I insist that you call me Roose, Chef Stark” he interjected. 

“Roose” she said, not inviting him to call her ‘Sansa’, he noticed. “I…” she broke off, clearly struggling with her courtesies. 

“Here” Roose stepped away, moving to the glass cases to grab one of the fresh cupcakes they’d just put out. “Pink lemonade” he walked back to where she stood, extending the confection to her. 

“Lemons are my favorite,” she said softly, looking at the frosted cake like it had grown fangs and tried to bite her. 

“How serendipitous. Take it, I insist” he placed it in her hand. “On the house.” 

“Roose--”

“Perhaps it will help you to relax” he continued, her eyes darting to his. 

“To what?” her eyes flashed with icy-fire. 

“Take a break from your war on dessert,” his lips twitched in amusement. She was even more incredible in person, he could practically see the witty retorts flashing behind her eyes. He decided to go for broke, “It’s time to step off that high horse of yours and let yourself enjoy life, Chef Stark” he pushed and the answering ‘shove’ was not wholly unexpected. 

“You--” she gasped and a split second later, the pink lemonade cupcake he had carefully handed her, found home smashed into his face. It was fortunate he closed his eyes in time, as frosting and cake went everywhere, falling to the floor between them. “You’re right, that was just what I needed. I am enjoying myself already.”

“I suppose I deserved that” he countered, wiping frosting from his eyes and face with his fingers. 

“Welcome to the neighborhood, Roose Bolton” Sansa blithely continued. “Thanks for the cupcake, it was great!” she threw over her shoulder as she stepped out onto the sidewalk and across the street. 

“Boss” he turned in time to catch the damp washcloth Barbrey tossed his way, using it to clean himself up. “Word of advice?” she smirked, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. “Never hand a woman a cupcake and then tell her to get off her high horse.” 

“Consider my lesson learned” he chuckled as he remembered the look of frustration on Sansa’s face the second before she smashed a cupcake in his face. Suddenly, an idea struck him and he turned back to his assistant. “Busy tonight?” 

“No…?”

“Good,” he pulled his phone from his pocket with his clean hand. “We’re going to dinner,” he declared, dialing Oberyn’s number. 

“He’s here” the head waiter Podrick burst into the kitchen, eyes wide and skin whiter than his dress shirt. 

“What? Who?” 

“Roose Bolton is here” Podrick explained as Lyanna burst into the kitchen. “Here!”

“I didn’t know, I promise,” she said in a rush of words, moving to Sansa’s side. “Oberyn himself called to get the table and I didn’t ask who it was for! I am so sorry chef!”

“It’s fine” Sansa swallowed thickly, trying to soothe the frantic hostess. “Did you seat him?” 

“Yes, I put him and his date in Podrick’s section” Lyanna explained. 

“His date?” Sansa frowned, but quickly schooled her features. She didn’t have the time or emotional capacity at this moment to examine why that word hurt. “Alright, fine. Podrick, he’s a friend of Oberyn’s so take care of him. You’re the best, so be the best.” 

“Yes, Chef” Podrick nodded, grabbing a chilled bottle of sparkling water. 

“And Podrick” Sansa smirked, pausing her work on the prep line. “If he asks, I’m not here.” 

“Of course, Chef” he nodded and disappeared back into the dining area. 

“I’m sorry--” Sansa cut off Lyanna with a shake of her head. 

“No need, you didn’t know” Sansa assured her. “Now if you would return to the front--” 

“Of course, Chef” Lyanna was gone in a flash, leaving Sansa and Jeyne at the prep line. 

“Think he’ll be a problem?” 

“If he is I wouldn’t blame him” Sansa exhaled, her body deflating. “I sort of...I sort of fucked up” she muttered, turning to the sink to wash her hands, scrubbing rougher than she should have. 

“Chef?” 

“I stopped by his shop this morning” Sansa admitted, drying her hands on a paper towel. 

“Oh no...what did you do?” 

“Nothing really” Sansa shrugged. “We talked….and..”

“And…?”

“And I might have smashed a cupcake in his face” Sansa whispered, the memory of how it felt to rub frosting and cake into his beard nearly making her laugh--and she would have if her stomach wasn’t turning with anxiety. 

“You did what?!” Jeyne yelled out loud enough that the others in the kitchen turned to look. "Are you insane?"

“It was an accident?” Sansa offered weakly but Jeyne only raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Alright, fine! He told me to get off my high horse and enjoy life, so I just...I couldn’t stop myself! I don’t know what came over me.” 

“Passion?” 

“Jeyne--” 

“Lust?” 

“Jeyne, really. Be serious.”

“He gets to you,” Jeyne continued, repeating her earlier sentiments. “Like no one else, he just wiggles right under your skin and makes himself at home. This morning aside, now he is in your restaurant so you have to suck it up and be professional.” 

“Right” Sansa squared her shoulders and straightened her chef’s whites. “I can do this.” 

“Yes, you can,” Jeyne agreed. “Now get back to work, Chef!” she laughed and Sansa felt the tension in her stomach ease. She could do this, this was her realm, her kingdom, and she would be damned if she was going to let Roose win. 

Refocusing on the task at hand, Sansa dove back into her work, letting the familiar motions soothe her. She worked quickly at the stove, each movement and ingredient part of an intricate dance that never felt tired or old. While baking was about precision and science, cooking was a freer art, one that allowed improvisation and passion to reign free. 

She lost herself in the sizzle of the skillet and the rich smells of tonight's specials, so much so that she jumped in surprise when Podrick appeared next to her. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, frowning at his clear discomfort. 

“He’s insisting he speak with you” Podrick said quietly, a hush falling on the staff. “I told him you weren’t here but--but he knows you are because he works across the street.” 

“Not going to happen, Pod” Sansa felt like a coward just saying it, but she didn’t know if she had the strength to deal with Roose in front of a dining room filled with customers. She didn’t trust herself around him and that frightened her more than anything. With a sigh of defeat, Podrick returned to the dining room alone. 

With a glance to the clock--thank the Gods they only have twenty minutes to closing, Sansa returned to work, plating the last orders of the night and handing them off to Jeyne for the final touches. 

“Good job tonight everyone,” Sansa announced to the kitchen staff when the evening was finished. “Enjoy your day off tomorrow and on Monday we’ll dive into a new round of specials. Thank you for your hard work this week!” 

“You’re welcome, Chef” they replied in unison, the familiar routine making Sansa smile. She had damned good staff here and without them ‘The Wall’ wouldn’t be as successful as it was. Cooking done, the staff switched gears and focused on the nightly cleaning and when that was done, they began to trickle out for the night. 

When it was just Sansa and Jeyne left, the Sous-chef ducked into the dining area to shut off the lights but when she returned the lights were still one and Sansa noticed she looked paler...like she’d seen a ghost. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Its...well,” Jeyne grabbed her bag and nodded to the dining room. “I will see you Monday, Chef.” 

Sansa watched her go with a frown, wondering what had shaken the normally stubborn woman. Setting her own purse on her cluttered desk, Sansa pushed through the kitchen doors to survey the restaurant. At first glance it all looked in order, but then her eyes reached the bar to find a smirk and pair of broad shoulders that didn’t belong. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she whispered. He’d shucked his dinner jacket, draping it across the stool beside him. He had rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up at some point while he waited, exposing strong forearms sprinkled with dark hair. He leaned against the bar, a glass of sparkling water in his hand looking like he owned the place. How dare he...look so good.

“Good evening, Chef Stark” he greeted smoothly, as if he hadn’t stayed behind in a closed restaurant to harass her. 

“If you’re here for an apology--” 

“I’m not.” 

“I am sorry for my behavior this morning” she continued, ignoring the way his brows rose in surprise. “It is unbecoming of a lady to act in such a way” she moved behind the bar to pour herself a glass of chardonnay. 

“I cannot say that I would have reacted any differently” he admitted, those pale blue eyes of his following her as she moved to the stool one seat to his left. 

“Why are you here?” 

“I asked to speak with you but your waiter insisted that you were not here” he chuckled. "Your staff is very loyal." 

“I didn’t want to make a scene in front of the other diners,” she explained, sipping her wine. “We--you and I, aren’t exactly known for our mutual affection.” 

“You know,” he leaned against the bar. “To clarify, my comments about soufflé were meant to be sarcastic.” 

“Oh?” 

“The internet isn’t really a place for a dry sense of humor” he chuckled. “Still, the perfect soufflé is..” he trailed off searching for the words. 

“Better than sex?” she offered flippantly, laughing at her own joke. 

“Clearly you haven’t had good sex then, Chef Stark” he scoffed and she felt her cheeks warm in spite of herself. 

“What happened to your date?” she glanced around the dining room, attempting to change the subject. 

“Barbrey is my assistant, not my date,” Roose explained. “Though I did seriously consider firing her after she decided that your Beef Wellington was ‘to die for’.” 

“Told you it was good” Sansa smirked as she took another sip of her wine. “Though I am curious, how was the spice-cake Wellington?” 

“Not as good as the real thing” he shocked her with his words and she cleared her throat. 

“So what is this? Some sort of olive branch?” she asked. 

“A clearing of the air of sorts” he replied. “I recently had a wake-up call by way of a pink lemonade cupcake to the face, and I realize that the wrong foot we started off on has spiraled to where we are now.” 

“A truce then” Sansa nodded. 

“A truce” he agreed. 

“You know I still think baking has no soul. All that measuring and science--” 

“And I reserve the right to change your mind.” 

“Just like I reserve the right to prove cooking that doesn’t lack discipline?” she felt her body leaning closer before she could stop herself. There was something about this man’s sheer presence that sucked her in and demanded she get closer. Was this what Oberyn was talking about? The magnetism of Roose Bolton? 

“You think you can change my mind?” a smirk played at the corner of his mouth, distracting her for several seconds. 

“I can at least try,” she replied softly. At this distance she could see the rich silver threading into his short, dark beard, it gave him a distinguished look she rather liked. She had never kissed a man with a beard before and couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like. 

“What are you suggesting, Chef Stark?” his question had her jolting from her daydreams.

“Call me Sansa,” she corrected. 

“What are you suggesting, _Sansa_?” he repeated--the man’s voice was criminal, how dare he speak with that sexy tone of voice. 

“Are you…” she couldn’t believe she was about to do this. “Are you busy tomorrow?” 

“I have to be at the bakery early, but I will be done by ten or so,” he paused. “Why?” 

“I go to the Farmer’s Market on Sundays. I treat myself to a nice home-cooked meal, try out new recipes to add to the menu here” she explained. “Come with me, let me show you what life is like without your legendary discipline.” 

“How can a man resist such an offer?” he finished his sparkling water and set the glass on the bar. 

“I’ll be at the bakery at ten” she informed him. “Be ready to have your mind changed, Roose Bolton.” 

“I can’t wait, Chef Stark.” 

Roose watched her, unable to look away as Sansa talked with the owner of a bread stand, laughing with the older woman as if they’d known each other their entire lives. As promised, Sansa had been at the bakery at ten-sharp, dressed casually in jeans and a sweater, a few canvas bags tucked under her arm in preparation of the farmer’s market. 

Barbrey had given him an unreadable look as he prepared to leave and he couldn’t help but think that his assistant could see right through him. Damned woman knew him too well. Brushing it aside, he’d fallen into step beside Sansa as they walked to the market. 

It became clear right away that Sansa was in her element in Wintertown. She called everyone by their first names, asked about pets and children, even handed a container of cartoon character chocolates to a little girl who was looking quite bored at her parent’s booth but lit up the moment she saw Sansa. He’d made a mental note to address the grocery store chocolates later. 

As they resumed their walk through the rows and rows of canopies, he listened as Sansa talked about the necessity of fresh ingredients and local sources to make everything at ‘The Wall’ perfect. He would be the first to admit that he never found much passion in cooking, but Sansa’s love for it was infectious--almost intoxicating. 

“Hi!” a young woman appeared in front of them, halting their progress. 

“Hello” Sansa replied with a genuine smile. 

“You’re Sansa Stark the chef, right?” 

“I am” Sansa nodded to the younger woman. 

“I am a huge fan” the blonde girl smiled. “I watched every episode of ‘Top Chef’ that you were on--at first it was because Oberyn Martell is so hot, even when he’s angry” she laughed. “But you made me realize that I want to be a chef too!” 

“That’s incredible, I am honored” Sansa’s tone was entirely sincere, her eyes bright with happiness. 

“Could I get a photo with you two?” the young woman now looked to him expectantly. 

“Of course” he replied simply. 

“How cool is it to be with both of you! Chef Stark and Chef Bolton! Wow! Your insults are, like, Wendy’s twitter legendary---wait” she looked between them. “Are you guys like…together together?” 

“Just here together” Sansa’s cheeks were bright red now.

“Oh” the girl frowned. “Cause that would have been, like, super romantic. Who doesn’t love a good ‘enemies to lovers’ romance?” she laughed, handing her friend her phone before stepping between them with a smile. Sansa wrapped her arm around the girl’s back at the same moment that he did, their hands bumping briefly before they assumed their pose for the camera. 

A few snaps later, the girl was giving them a beaming ‘thank you’ before bouncing away with her friends. Unsure of what to say, Roose walked in silence beside Sansa once again. Soon enough the awkwardness between them passed and Sansa was talking about how important it was to find the best tomatoes for tonight’s recipe. 

His mind couldn’t help but turn over the young girl’s words, ‘together together’, ‘romantic’, ‘enemies to lovers’--Gods, she wasn’t wrong. Oberyn had been insistent that Roose would adore Sansa if they ever deigned to meet each other, and now that they had there was no denying the spark between them. So perhaps their traded barbs had been some primitive form or foreplay all along. 

Roose returned to his observation of her, absently cataloging her expressions and tidbits of information. By the time they left the market, they both had bags of fresh ingredients in each hand and Sansa’s excitement was palpable. 

“Are you sure you’re prepared?” she asked him as she placed the bags on her kitchen island. 

“I am” he glanced around her apartment, not surprised at how bright and welcoming the space was. It had high ceilings and several brick walls giving it a slight industrial feeling. The kitchen, of course, was state of the art and decked out with high-end appliances. “I feel as if I have stepped into the secret lair” he noted, tugging off his jacket to drape it over a chair at the kitchen table. 

“You have” she smiled back at him. “You’re officially seeing behind the wizard’s curtain.” 

“I admit, if my accommodations in the North were this nice, I would consider staying,” he said, running his hand over the handle of her oven. She had clearly spared no expense in her kitchen.

“Do you always just make yourself at home and fondle a girl’s oven?” 

“When the ovens are this nice, yes” he couldn’t pretend to miss the double entendre in her words. Her snark and wit were just as honed in person as they were on social media. 

“In that case” she placed a stack of vegetables into his hands. “Get to work, you’re officially my Sous-chef.” 

“I never asked for this,” he smirked, grabbing a colander from the pot rack hanging from the ceiling and crossing to the sink. Rolling up his sleeves, he did as he was instructed, fascinated by this side of Sansa Stark. This was her realm--her kingdom, and he was about to witness her at her very truest self. 

“Yes you did” she countered smoothly, grabbing pots and pans of her own. 

“I suppose I did” he relented, washing the last of the vegetables. When he turned back it was to watch as she pulled her loose hair into a messy ponytail and his eyes were drawn to the slender column of her throat where it met her shoulder and the small mole beneath her ear. 

“Ready, Sous-Chef Bolton?” she asked, oblivious to his stare. 

“Of course, do your worst.” 

“You’re good with those,” Sansa noted, watching Roose’s hands as they expertly dealt with the filets. They’d been working side by side to create a simple beef filet dish with bacon-wrapped asparagus on the side. Sansa had already prepped the ingredients for a rich mushroom and wine sauce to go on top and they were now delving into the cooking portion.

“In my line of work, you have to be good with a blade” he deftly spun the knife in his hand with a devilish smirk. “Chocolate’s forgiveness only goes so far when you’re sculpting it.”

“Show off” she laughed, shaking her head. “Chocolatier or assassin? Inquiring minds want to know.” 

“Both” mischief shone in his eyes and she couldn’t help but laugh. 

“‘Both’ he says” she chuckled. “Admit it, you’re nothing but a cupcake” she winked. 

“Hardly” he scoffed. “Oberyn isn’t the only one known to make kitchen staff cry, you know.” 

“Oh?”

“In fact” he finished his work and set the blade aside. “You’re probably the only one to give as good as you got--in terms of barbed words, of course.” 

“I’ve been known to hold my own” she reached past him to grab the kitchen towel, wiping her hands. “There’s a reason I didn’t buckle under the pressure on ‘Top Chef’.” 

“You were a force to be reckoned with” he said and her hands slowed to a stop. 

“You watched?” 

“Don’t sound so shocked” he said softly, expression unreadable. They stood a scant few inches apart now, tension heavy and thick in the kitchen. She hadn’t shared this space with anyone else before, not even Arya was brave enough to step past the island when Sansa was working. But with Roose here it felt….not wrong. “Oberyn called me two weeks into filming,” Roose explained. “Told me he knew you’d win it all and such praise from him piqued my curiosity.” 

“Oh” she whispered. 

“It's a shame then” his lips curled into a smirk. “That you lack discipline” he finished and she laughed, shaking her head. 

“Oh, shut up” she tossed the towel at him, breaking the tension but it still felt no less heated. Roose returned to the cutting board, clearing his throat as he began to cut the asparagus. “No, no” Sansa said before she could stop herself and when Roose’s hand stilled, she placed her hand over his on the knife, guiding him in the correct movement. His hand was warm beneath hers, strong and broad, and she felt electricity race through her bloodstream. “Rock, don’t saw. Let the blade do the work” she encouraged. “It’s sharp for a reason.” 

“Chef or assassin?” he turned to the side to face her, the movement putting their faces inches apart. 

“Both” she whispered, her body canting forward a fraction of an inch only to jolt in surprise as her cell phone screamed its shrill tone into the silence of the room. She made no move to answer it, she was frozen in place; her hand on his and hardly a measurable distance between them. Eventually the ringing stopped and they were left in silence, the only sound she could hear was her heartbeat racing in her ears. 

“Sansa.” 

“Roose--” they started at the same time, then lapsed into a heated silence. 

“I should have listened to Oberyn,” Roose finally spoke, making no movement to step away. “When he told me how lovely you are.”

“Roose…”

“Once you get beyond that smart mouth of yours, anyway” he added and she exhaled, doing her best not to laugh as she turned away. Her progress was halted, however, when Roose’s hand caught hers as it withdrew. His arm wrapped around her waist and he guided her back into the solid wall of his chest. 

“Oh---” her surprise was silenced when his lips landed on hers--softly, tentatively at first but the moment she melted into his embrace, he delved deeper. Her hands fisted in the back of his shirt, clinging to him as he backed her against the island, trapping her in the most delicious way. While one of his hands splayed wide across her back, the other traced her jaw, cupping it gently as his tongue parted her lips to devour her. There was nothing beyond his kiss; no baking, no cooking, nothing but Roose--and damn could the man kiss. Of course he could, he did everything else perfectly, why not this? She’d been kissed before, but never with such singular devotion and unrelenting passion.

Eventually the need for air had them breaking apart, he only pulled back enough to break their connection, but stayed close. His eyes searched hers as they stared at each other, his thumb tracing her cheek. 

“Wow” she whispered, unable to form any other reply. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for far too long,” he admitted, his voice husky with desire. 

“I didn’t realize how much I wanted to do that until it happened” she replied in-kind.

“And as much as I want to,” he said quietly. “I am not going to carry you to the bedroom--not on the first date.” 

“Is that what this was? A date?” 

“I’m not that kind of man. You haven’t even made me dinner yet” he snarked and she smiled. 

“Everything’s changed, hasn’t it?” 

“I think so” he nodded.

“Remember when I said there was no soul in baking?” she said softly, admiring the play of emotion in his eyes. 

“Mmhmm.” 

“I think I was wrong…” 

“Oh?” 

“A man who kisses like that should never be accused of lacking soul” she said and he smiled, closing the distance between them to renew their kiss. This time her arms wrapped around his shoulders and neck to hold him as tightly as he held her. 

Dinner that night wasn’t her most impressive meal to date, she had been continually distracted by lingering kisses and the warmth of Roose’s touch, but it would always remain one of her favorites. The common ground between them grew larger with each minute of earnest conversation and by the time sunset had arrived, she realized that Roose Bolton was a very dangerous man--not because of his skill with a kitchen knife, which was disconcerting, but because even just conversation with him left her wanting more. 

“I just realized something,” Roose said quietly, his arm around her as they reclined on the sofa. The first light of dawn was glowing on the horizon making her realize that they had talked all night without being aware that time had passed. They were both going to be miserable at work in a few hours, but she couldn't find it in her heart to regret their evening together.

“Hmm?” she turned to look up at him, her fingers idly toying with his. 

“You didn’t let me make you dessert.”

“Next time” she promised, using a gentle hand to pull him back into another kiss. 

“That’s him” Sansa jumped when the knock came at the door and Roose couldn’t help but chuckle at her nervousness. She was more anxious about tonight’s dinner than she had been a fortnight ago when they’d shared their first meal with her entire family-- _that_ had been an adventure.

“It’s going to be fine,” Roose assured her, stepping away from the stove to kiss her forehead. As had become a habit, he tucked her hair behind her ears, indulging himself in the feel of the fiery silk against his fingers. 

“Rationally I know that,” Sansa replied, worrying her lower lip. “I just…” 

“I know” Roose nodded as a second knock came. “Better answer it before he just lets himself in.” 

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Sansa agreed, moving away. She discarded her apron and Roose watched her go, admiring the way her floral dress danced around her legs as she walked. He’d always thought Sansa was a beautiful woman, but as he had grown closer and closer to her over these past few moons, he now believed her to be the most enchanting creature in existence. 

Sure, she was stubborn and opinionated, but so was he. Now, more often than not, their ‘playful’ disagreements and traded barbs led to passion of a different sort, which he certainly wasn't complaining about. 

They’d never see eye to eye on the merits of baking versus cooking and vice versa, but he rather appreciated that about their dynamic. While Sansa would insist that their shared dinners were beyond exceptional, it didn’t stop her from enjoying any of the desserts he whipped up--in the kitchen or in bed. 

The richly accented voice of Oberyn Martell reached Roose’s ears, pulling him from his musings in time to see the tall Dornish man come around the corner to the kitchen. Oberyn and Sansa had a standing dinner date for every quarter to review the restaurant details and any other business that came up, but Oberyn hadn’t been warned that Roose was going to be in attendance tonight. 

“I’ll be--Son of a bitch” Oberyn muttered, nearly dropping the bottle of red wine in his hands. 

“Oberyn, I believe you already know Roose.” 

“Sansa, Roose Bolton is in your kitchen” Oberyn looked to Sansa, confusion etched on his features. 

“He is,” Sansa confirmed. “Though it's more like ‘our kitchen’ these days.”

“In your home” Oberyn’s eyes jerked back to where Roose stood, clad in dark jeans and a casual shirt with Sansa’s apron on. “Baking.” 

“I am” Roose wiped his hands and stepped forward to take the wine before he _did_ drop it, and extended his hand. “Good to see you Oberyn, it’s been a while.” 

“Yeah, you too” Oberyn weakly shook Roose’s offered hand. “When did all this start?”

“Remember that day you called me freaking out about the photo of Roose and I at the market?” Sansa moved to Roose’s side. Roose wouldn’t forget that photo for as long as he lived; the young fans twitter post had gone viral, exploding on a sea of rumors and speculation. Not to mention it was the day of their first ‘date’, as it were.

“You mean the one four moons ago?” Oberyn gaped. 

“That’s the one” Sansa laughed. 

“I knew it” Oberyn suddenly burst out into triumphant laughter. “I told you didn’t I?” he pointed to Roose, then at Sansa, “I told you both!” 

“You did” Roose set the wine on the counter. 

“Next time just listen to old Oberyn, eh?” he beamed at his victory. “You would have saved each other so much frustration” he clapped his hands together. “Now, what’s for dinner, I’m starved” he moved into the kitchen, examining the pots and pans, but Roose’s focus remained on Sansa, who had an adorable crooked smile on her face. 

“He’s never going to let us live it down,” Sansa whispered. 

“I know” Roose stole a quick kiss. “But I’m okay with that.” And he was. As tumultuous as their first interactions had been, he wouldn’t change a thing about them. He’d known that Sansa was special from the moment she smashed a cupcake into his face. He had been unable to resist seeing her again and the moment he began to see all of the facets to this beautifully fascinating woman, he was hooked. 

“I’ve just had a brilliant idea!” Oberyn suddenly announced, whirling to face them. “How do you feel about being guest judges on ‘Top Chef’? Just imagine the publicity!” he exclaimed, his mouth moving a hundred miles an hour as he brainstormed aloud. 

“Oh boy” Sansa whispered. 

“‘Oh boy’ is right” Roose agreed, both of them looking on as Oberyn plotted and schemed. 

_Epilogue..._

Sansa carried the last of the plates to the table, smiling at the rearranging that they’d done for this evening's special dinner. Normally ‘The Wall’ was closed on Sundays, but tonight they'd opened it for a private event, which meant the restaurant would be filled with their friends and family, everyone gathering around to celebrate. 

The front door opened and Sansa turned in time to watch Roose and Barbrey carrying in huge racks of desserts of all shapes and sizes. By the time they were done, the spacious bar-top was covered with cakes, cupcakes, and macarons alike, their pastel colors standing out like a beacon against the cool modern décor of ‘The Wall’. Several moons after they’d started dating, Sansa had asked Roose about ‘all the pink’; it was then that he explained the ancestral colors of House Bolton of Westeros and suddenly it all made sense. Sansa rather liked it, there was something about a man secure enough in himself to surround himself with so much pink.

The door opened again and familiar faces spilled inside; her parents and siblings, Oberyn Martell and his latest paramour Ellaria, behind him were several other chefs from the Gourmet Network, with Roose’s long-time friend and investor Tywin Lannister and his wife bringing up the rear. 

“There she is” Catelyn hugged Sansa, kissing her cheek. 

“We’re so proud of you, Lemon Cake” her Father joined them. 

“Thank you” Sansa hugged them both, Roose stepping in to shake her Father’s hand. 

“You too, Roose” Catelyn smiled. “Imagine, Westeros Culinary Federation's ‘Chef of the Year’ and ‘Confectioner of the Year’ under one roof, how wonderful.” 

“I admit, I am still surprised,” Sansa smiled, glancing at where the pair of large golden statues sat on the bar, surrounded by baked goods. While they had both been nominated for an award at the Culinary Federation’s annual gala, she certainly hadn’t expected them both to walk away with the highest honors in their respective crafts. Roose’s hand settled on her lower back as it always did, his silent show of support and affection in the crowded room. 

Greetings we exchanged, Sansa making sure that everyone had their coat on the rack and a drink in their hand. Soon Jeyne, Lyanna and Podrick were carrying food from the kitchens, everything looking and smelling perfect as they gathered round to celebrate. Walking to the table, Roose took one of the end seats and Sansa took the one to his left with everyone else falling into place around them. 

“Before we begin” Roose raised his glass of red wine, the only one he would have for the entire evening. “I would like to propose a toast. First, I want to thank you all for being here and for being a part of our family” he nodded. “To Tywin and Joanna for their continual encouragement, to Barbrey for being an unfailing pillar of support, to Oberyn for so easily seeing what others could not. To Ned and Catelyn for bringing such a lovely, talented, infuriatingly stubborn woman into the world” he turned to her and Sansa felt her heart begin to race. “And finally to Sansa Stark. It is no secret that I love you, I think I have since that first moment when you smashed a cupcake into my face” he smiled, soft laughter echoing from the others. “So I would like to offer a bargain” Sansa felt faint as he reached into his pocket and produced a small velvet box. “If you would grant me the honor of becoming my wife, I would happily let you shove cake into my face in front of our families at a much more joyous celebration.” 

“Roose” she choked on a sob, eyes flooded with tears. “Oh my Gods.” 

“Will you marry me, Sansa?” he set his glass aside to open the box to reveal a stunning antique ring as he sank to one knee beside the table. 

“Oh my Gods” she repeated, unable to stop herself from crying. Belatedly she realized that everyone was looking at her expectantly, and she gave a watery laugh. “Oh! Yes! Of course, yes” she replied, fanning her face as Roose returned to his full height. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too and I’ll marry you on one condition” she said softly, as he slipped the ring onto her left ring finger. The others were so lost in their applause and well wishes that only Roose had heard her. 

“Anything” he promised. 

“We have Beef Wellington at the reception” she smirked, watching the amusement play across his face. 

“Real Wellington or cake Wellington?” 

“Both” she readily agreed. “Definitely both. And a pink lemonade cake.” 

“Deal” he agreed without hesitation, wrapping his arms around her. Sansa turned to meet his kiss, melting into her _fiancé's_ arms without a care in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> If you're on discord, feel free to come and join the new [Wulf Pack](https://discord.gg/bsRauMj/)! I have had phenom help and support getting this server going, and I can't wait to talk with you there! There might even be exciting new challenges and stories on the horizon!


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